The First Year
by wearenotgods
Summary: It only takes a birthday, a wish, and a witch to end a supernatural race in the shortest of seconds.


**For Alta who gave me the prompt_ Be Careful What You Wish For_ and who has been waiting forever and a day for it.**

**I don't own The Vampire Diaries, nor do I want to and all mistakes are mine.**

* * *

It only takes a birthday, a wish, and a witch to end a supernatural race in the shortest of seconds.

At this point Tyler's been a vampire almost as long as he'd been a werewolf but it's only the latter that keeps him alive. As the only surviving hybrid, he's the only thing resembling a vampire after Bonnie's wish goes into effect. Caroline, Elena, the Salvatores, the Originals, and every other vampire are wiped off the face of the earth by a teenage girl on the day of her birth.

Matt takes it the hardest, which is unexpected and expected at the same time. He's never done well with change; he's also never been someone considered easily forgiving. He takes his frustration out on Bonnie, _how could you not know this would happen. _He takes it out on Tyler_, "how are you the only one that survived" _and they let him being that they're time in Mystic Falls is numbered anyway. Graduation is right around the corner all of them leaving their separate ways, and the most contact they'll maintain is probably a phone call every holiday.

Bonnie however wants to say goodbye early.

Her parents aren't around, most of her friends are dead, and school is insignificant and has been for the past couple of years so there's nothing tying her down.

Tyler honestly doesn't know if he's strong enough to make it on his own. Caroline's gone, so is his mother. Matt's cordial if he has to be and it's been months since Jeremy died. They've both suffered but selfishly he doesn't want to do it alone.

"I wish you would stay."

_Please don't leave me. You're all I have left._

She must be able to read between the lines, or maybe it's just what she needed to hear because she stays.

* * *

Graduation is on them in a flash. Matt's still holding on to his bitterness but in all honesty it's probably the last time they'll ever get to be together so he tries not to take it personally.

"You do know that I love you guys?"

They know.

"Come with us," Tyler asks while they sit at the lake sipping lukewarm beer while their peers are on the other side of the lake participating in the graduation celebration.

Somewhere along the line he and Bonnie became _us_ and he's grateful that he won't have to be on his own—at least for a while.

"Where are you going?"

"Away."

Tyler knows Matt won't say yes, but cuffs him on the back of the neck and pulls him into a hug anyway. "You have a home with us if you change your mind. No matter what."

It's unlikely he'll ever take them up on that offer, but it needs to be said.

* * *

Mason's old cabin is where they end up. It still smells of his uncle but soon there aren't many places in the house that aren't covered up with the smell of Bonnie.

She lights her candles and incense. She decorates the common areas with throw pillows and blankets. Wind chimes are hung on the porch. She puts her mark all over the place, making it welcoming for the guest they never have.

He feels at home and he hasn't felt that way in a long time.

* * *

There aren't any things Tyler's afraid of now, but the thought of being alone is terrifying.

Now he's starting to realize that he can be alone with someone sleeping in the next room.

* * *

It's been exactly six months since Bonnie's birthday but it feels like years. They're sitting in the small den of the cabin watching TV, her toes are tucked underneath the cushions of the couch, her head resting on the arm. Bonnie's asks Tyler to bring the bottle of Jack from underneath the kitchen cabinet to her. She pours them both a drink, knocking a swig straight from the bottle first.

"To us."

"What for?"

"Surviving," she says with a fake smile plastered on her face. He doesn't know why it's there or why she feels she should put on appearances for him but he'll definitely drink to living six months longer than he thought he would.

He tilts the glass back until there's fire coating his throat.

* * *

He's drunk. One bottle somehow became three and Bonnie doesn't even seem close to being as drunk as he is.

Alcohol has never brought out any the few good characteristics Tyler claims to possess. Before becoming a werewolf it made him aggressive and now he's overly emotional, too honest with his feelings and he's never liked feeling so open.

The TV's off now, the only light coming from the candles Bonnie accidently lit while tipsily laughing at a joke Tyler wasn't trying to make. He head lulls back, exposing her neck, and Tyler questions if it's the wolf in him or the remnants of the vampire that gets some weird thrill out of it.

"You're staring," she says without opening her eyes, absently rubbing at her mouth, "do I have something on my face?"

"No."

"Then why are you staring?"

"I…your neck."

"What about it?"

"I don't know. I just like it."

Her laugh is fizzy and takes forever to end. It's a nice sound.

"Thanks? Is that a vampire thing?"

"It could be. I have nobody else to compare notes with, so I can't be sure." He's not attempting to sound bitter but he hears it in his voice when it's too late to change it.

Bonnie sobers then, her mouth in a straight line. She sits up, her small hand reaching out to wrap around his wrist. "I'm sorry Ty. You know I didn't do it on purpose."

"I don't blame you. I just keep thinking about it. Everybody I know is dead, besides you. And one day you're going to leave. One day you'll die…or you'll leave to start a family…or whatever. You'll be gone…and I can meet new people, make new friends. But they'll be human…and they'll die and no matter what happens I'm going to be alone."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"But you will."

"We'll work on that when we get to it…right now I'm here."

She goes to move her hand and he grabs it, his eyes closing and a sigh leaving his lips. "You're here but… I've lived with you for months now and I don't know anything about you…because you don't talk to-me. I'm all you have right now and you don't talk to me… aren't you lonely? "

"Tyler…"

"I know you probably think I'm an asshole or whatever. I don't even know if you ever liked me. But I've always liked you and I apologize if I was a dick to you… but I don't know if I can deal with being alone like this. That's not the only reason I want you to stay, you're my friend, but…is this not as hard for you as it is for me? I'm struggling and I don't know how you're feeling."

Her cadence is off, like she's calculating her words, and he hates that she feels like she needs to. "I didn't know you felt that way. I didn't notice I was keeping myself from you…I'm just really private. I'm not use to anybody else caring." She never gets around to answering any of his questions.

"I care."

Bonnie pulls her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "I appreciate that. I really do. But Tyler I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. If you want to talk just talk. I'll listen."

"I don't want you to just listen. I want to know how you feel. You've gotta be grieving too…we shouldn't have to deal with it alone…that's why we're together now, right? I want to talk about stuff other than the weather and 'how was your run?' you know?"

There's a long block of silence, a sense of waiting. A tired sigh.

"Maybe it's time to go to bed," she says and he when he looks up all he sees it her bedroom door closing with a click.

* * *

It's early enough that it's light out, but definitely not early enough to be awake. He's still a little drunk when he wakes up to the flush of the toilet and the sound of her fumbling through the cabinets. The door creaks open and as soon as he opens his eyes her sees her shaking hand when she steps over the threshold with a glass cologne bottle in her palm.

The cologne belonged to Mason. It looks unused, it's almost full, something he probably wore before his yoga and diary keeping days. Tyler can't ever remember him smelling like this but the scent is familiar. He sits up in his bed and eyes the bottle as it bounces on the mattress. "What's wrong?"

Bonnie looks impossibly young in her thin t-shirt and bare legs standing at the end of the bed, and she looks like she's seconds away from tears. She doesn't speak, just climbs onto the end of the bed, the brass frame creaks under her weight.

"Bonnie?"

Her heart speeds up faintly as she whispers, "could you wear this?''

"Right now?"

She nods and he takes it from her hand. He mists a pump against the skin of his chest and he watches her body tenses when she lies down beside him and inhales. "Are you okay?"

"Um…can you…"

"Can I what?"

"Wrap your arm around me…you know, just hold me?" The warmth radiating from her face sets fire to his own but Tyler's arm stretches around her until she settles her head on his chest.

"I've missed this," she whispers so faintly he barely hears her.

* * *

It's not until the morning when he places the scent, after Bonnie's apologized for her weirdness and she's having breakfast at the table avoiding all eye contact.

"It so weird how things just creep up on you sometimes."

It's takes him longer than he'd like to connect the dots to Jeremy.

He doesn't know if he wore the cologn in during his emo phase but it definitely was his signature scent in his slightly-too-tight-shirts-and-gelled-hair-phase.

If sleeping with a ghost gives her some kind of comfort who is he to judge her. There is a strange sort of joy he gets out of her sharing this with him, even if it wasn't the way he would've expected. It's just nice to know he's not mourning alone.

Tyler's never pretended like he wasn't selfish.

* * *

As far as the talking thing goes, she tries. Sometimes it's just a small sentence or two like, "Caroline hated chocolate cake until we were thirteen" or how the bracelet she wears all the time belongs to Elena, but sometimes it's not even that much.

Every Sunday she polishes her nails at the kitchen table, sipping on tea spiked with bourbon she obviously doesn't like and when he asks about it she responds with a simple, "my Grams."

She never completes her sentence and never goes into an explanation but he knows what it's like to do things in remembrance of people. He sits on the porch smoking the same cigars his father did and watches Breakfast at Tiffany's more often than he'd care to admit for his mother and Caroline. He eats fried bologna sandwiches (a Donovan household favorite that he never could eat at home) because memories are all he'll have left.

* * *

Tyler gets sick and it shouldn't happen but he's shouldn't even exist, so anything is possible.

He doesn't drink blood because he's not a vampire anymore, that part of him died along with the others. That was evident by the lack of bloodlust, or at least the bloodlust almost being non-existent.

_Almost_.

Bonnie's blood is a different story.

The awkwardness of fantasizing about drinking from his roommate is something he'd rather not address. But it's never been more than a fantasy he attributes to the habitual nature of drinking blood. He can still remember the taste, sometimes still craves it, how it made him feel, but he thinks that's normal.

He's sweating now, something that only happens with the right motivation; one foot in the grave must be enough motivation. He's in and out of consciousness now, this fever worse than any one he's ever had as a human and it's only just the beginning.

* * *

His skin's so hot it feels like it's about to burst until he smells copper and hears a bronzy feminine voice telling him it'll be alright.

Maybe this is heaven.

* * *

The girl is here.

He's too loopy to focus his eyes, too weak to place her voice, but he knows it.

It's comforting.

Today in a brief moment he remembers that all dogs go to heaven, he remembers that for some reason and wolves are closely related to dogs.

There's the scent of fresh blood near and heaven is awesome.

* * *

Day eight he's sure that vampires don't go to heaven.

Thinking about this brings tears to his eyes and the girl wipes them away with a gentle touch.

"It'll be okay," she says.

He doesn't know where he is or why her voice gets him through it but it does and the warm blood trickling down his throat doesn't hurt.

* * *

He remember she's not a vampire anymore on day ten. He also feels warm skin on his, a sleep-raspy voice in his ear. "…that's how I broke my wrist…my dad definitely didn't think it was funny, but dares were serious business then."

She presses bloodied skin to his mouth and when he feels too tired to open his mouth he feels her fingers gently prying his lips open.

"God Tyler. You can't leave me…wake up. Please."

His eyelids are too heavy to raise but he grunts in hopes of her realizing that he's listening.

* * *

It's two weeks before he's finally conscious enough to take in his surroundings. He's lying in a room with wooden walls. Cedar if the scent is any indication. There's a full bookshelf to the right of him. A dresser filled with candles to the left. Beside him in the bed is a warm body snuggled underneath the huge comforter.

"Don't leave me."

He falls asleep before she replies.

* * *

"Bonnie." His voice is rough from misuse, croaky, dry. His eyes find her crooked smile as she brings a bloody wrist to his mouth and he latches on like a baby to a breast.

"I'm glad to hear your voice." She wraps her other arm around him and whispers into his sweaty skin, "I told you I wouldn't leave."

He's never trusted anybody more with his life than he does her.

They never figure out why it happens or what caused it, it's probably a side effect of all the magic. But Tyler thanks Bonnief or all she's done and avoids thinking about how she won't be around forever.

* * *

Red and gold leaves shimmy in the wind now, the chill in the air has more bite than the summer breeze ever does. Their days are spent lounging around the house after Tyler's run and Bonnie's morning meditation. There's the added act of drinking her blood to their routine but besides that it's simple.

They need simple.

Tyler's well and Bonnie's seemingly happy. He can never really tell with her but she's content enough to work on a crossword puzzle while he makes them the only thing he knows how besides sandwiches. He sits the bowl in front of her and her hand brushes his as he pulls away. "Thank you," she says, smile on her face, eyes lit up.

He blushes at that, not her gratitude but how natural this domesticity feels, how much he enjoys it. How comfortable she seems with him. There's no complexities he needs to work out. He doesn't have to figure out what it means. It's simple and it's nice and it's normal in a way that seems foreign to him.

Later they're tidying up moving around each other when Bonnie grabs his waist in passing.

"You should feed."

She always initiates it, and she's always the one to make sure it never goes too far. He hates that he puts this on her. There's no telling what will happen if they stop, ad Bonnie doesn't want to find out. He definitely enjoys the act itself, fangs deep in her flesh, her warm palm running through his hair while blood pumps into his mouth. He wasn't drinking fresh blood for long so this is a special treat, however he never feels comfortable knowing how much he enjoys it. But he's not stupid enough to turn it down.

It's habit now, the raising of a wrist to his mouth, the slight grunt she makes at first contact with his incisors. This time it's no different. Her arm's still wrapped loosely around his waist like they're mid-sway of a dance. He can feel her body heat every place their bodies meet. A groan gets caught his throat and he almost chokes.

He's hard against her and instinctually he leans closer before pulling away. He watches her face for any indication that she felt it and her eyes widen.

He prepares himself to tell her it's a reflex, giving her the highlights of the conversation he and Rebekah had when he first turned about blood and sex going hand-in-hand. But Bonnie just shrugs her shoulders and widens the space between them.

"It happens."

* * *

They're naïve to think that trouble won't come to their door. He's a hybrid and she's a witch and it's bound to happen. Apparently there have been talks amongst witches about the last living hybrid and the witch that made it possible. How they find out about Tyler and Bonne no one knows, but they don't stay long enough to find out.

* * *

Bonnie hasn't been practicing magic since she left Mystic Falls, besides the occasionally spell when she's feeling too lazy manually do something. She's been resting, something she tells him she hasn't done since her grandmother died, preferring to spend more time researching and meditating. But magic is like riding a bike and her body and mind knows what to do even if she's a little rusty.

Oklahoma's where they lay their head and where they really start over. Bonnie places wards up around their small one bedroom apartment, they use a glamour whenever they go out. Even though these she's assured him these spell don't take much out of her (he's more than a little concerned after learning her full history), he does see how happy it makes her to be doing magic again.

As quick as Mason's became their home, so does this one.

Bonnie sleeps right beside him keeping the bed warm. They go out for dinner on the weekends and since the weather is getting nice occasionally they take walks around the neighborhood.

It's not exciting. But it's simple.

They need simple.

* * *

They're sharing a bottle of wine in their bedroom propped against the pillows. Bonnie's tracing the lines on the blanket thrown over her legs while Tyler flips through a Sports Illustrated that ended up in their mailbox on accident.

"I haven't desperately pleaded for you to not leave me in a while. Things must be looking up."

Her eyes crinkle in the corners. Her mouth creeps its way into a smile. She chokes a little on her wine but her laugh eventually makes its way out. "I think they are. I never told you how much I appreciated that."

"Appreciated what?"

"You wanting me around…asking me to stay… and not needing me to be strong. I needed that." She lays back deeper into the pillows, placing her glass on the nightstand. She tilts her neck back and his eyes are drawn to the skin there. It's unusual for Bonnie to be contemplative, to be this open without any probing from him. "You're my best friend. I love you more than anything."

He loves her too.

He's watching her now: her face, her neck. Her demeanor has completely changed since that night at Mason's but she's still just as comfortable with him as she was then, maybe even more.

"You're staring."

"Sorry."

"My neck?"

He swallows and watches her face as he nods his head.

"Do you think about biting me?"

He could lie, but he doesn't see the point. She'll know.

"I do."

"Damon bit me once…it was painful to say the least— "

"I'm not asking you to…I'm not expecting you…"

"It feels good right? It can? I heard it feels better there…that there are people who like to get bitten."

"There are."

"I might be one of those people." Her finger starts tracing the edges of the bedspread's flowers. Her eyes don't meet his when she says, "I thought about it before…and I trust you. More than I've ever trusted anybody. I'm not afraid of you like I was of him. "

"Bonnie…"

"You always want me to talk…to tell you deep dark secrets. That's one of them."

"I don't know…"

"I want to…I'm not going to force you. But I would like to…just to see what it's like. You're the only one who could do it."

"I'm not going to do that."

She goes back to sipping her wine.

* * *

Death lingers over them the entire week leading up until Bonnie's birthday. He feels it so he knows she must feel it even more deeply. When they're in bed the night before and she's lying in the crook of his arm, the liquor on her breath heavy, she begins to whisper and it comes out as a sob.

"Shh…it'll get easier." It feels like the right thing to say.

"It is easier. That's what I wished for and I got it, but they're gone and... I'm happy and I should feel terrible…but I saved a lot of lives."

He's not sure what he expected her to say but that's not it. He kisses the top of her head and squeezes her a little tighter.

* * *

It's a weird day for the both of them. It should be a celebration for a multitude of reasons, but it's also a day of mourning.

She's standing at the bathroom counter washing her face when Tyler plops down on the edge of the tub to watch her in the mirror. "Whatever you want to do today we can. If you want me to jump up and down on one leg and sing "Happy Birthday" to you, I will."

Bonnie shakes he head.

"I want you to kiss me."

Tyler makes eye contact with her reflection.  
"What?

"Kiss me."

"Why?"

"_Aren't you lonely?_"

He doesn't know how to answer that anymore. Maybe there are levels to loneliness because he doesn't feel the same way he did then. "You asked me that once and I never answered. I don't know why. Maybe I was embarrassed to admit it…but there are different ways of being lonely and I can tell you that I'm not in the same place I was back then…I'm not the same kind of lonely. But birthdays have always been hard for me and for once I just don't want to feel alone on my birthday. "

"And kissing me will change that—"

"You don't have to if you don't want to…but I've missed…a lot of things. I know it probably sounds really pathetic, but I just want you to tell me I look nice and take me out to lunch and kiss me like I didn't ask you to…I want to feel special I guess and for nothing bad to happen."

"I think I can do that."

* * *

They have lunch at a restaurant that serenades the birthday girl in Italian. Tyler pulls out her chair and compliments her dress; it's purple and billowy, rich in color, the deepness gorgeous against her skin. She gets tipsy off of sixty year old wine and laughs at the jokes Tyler makes that he knows aren't funny

She looks as if she wants to hold his hand when they stroll through the park. The spring breeze picks up her hair and he picks up her hand, threading his fingers through hers. She looks up at him and smiles and it makes him feel a twinge in his chest.

Tyler's kissed girls before. He's even kissed Bonnie before, but there's a lot of pressure on him to make this pleasant for her.

It's just a kiss, but it's still not just a kiss.

It's not simple.

They need simple.

"Look Tyler, you don't have to do it. I had fun today. I almost forgot about everything else. _I had fun_. I felt special."

"You are special."

She preens at that, her hand brushes her bangs to the side of her face, she straightens up the twisted hem of her dress. "Thank you."

"Come to bed, we can watch TV. I'll even let you choose what channel."

Bonnie rolls her eyes, "happy birthday to me then."

* * *

There's an hour left of her birthday when they wake up from their impromptu nap. Her hair's wild and all over the place, the dress she had on tossed and exchanged for a t-shirt. Her bare leg is thrown over his, her arm thrown haphazardly across his chest.

The rest is natural, almost second nature.

Simple.

They need simple.

He runs his hand along her arm until he can grasp her hand over his heart. He brings it up and presses his lips against every digit and one to her palm. He can't see her eyes but he can feel them on him, watching, questioning. When he finally does see the green irises in the dim light of the TV it's seconds before he presses his lips to hers.

At first she's surprised, her mouth still before she presses back. He'd thought he might have forgotten what to do, but it's instinctual and besides it doesn't take much for her to take over. She's on him then, the weight of her centered on his lap, her tongue working its way into his mouth.

Tyler hand reaches up to brush her hair away from her face when she pulls back. Her eyes search his, asking if this is okay. It's followed by her asking verbal permission and Tyler laughs because the roles are usually reversed.

He should say no. Today is a rough day for the both of them, but especially her; she's going through a lot right now. They're friends. It's inappropriate. There are plenty of reasons he should say no but the hardness sandwiched between the both of them makes it a little easier to say yes. He gives her a tap on the back of her leg and she immediately she moves.

Her labored breaths are harsh in the silence of the room and she's the first to speak.

"Please don't be embarrassed…I'm sorry…I didn't mean to..."

He answers her question by finding his way on top of her, hiking the cotton shirt over her head. It slips off with ease and so does her underwear, her bra. She bares her neck to him and for once he's not thinking about anything but the taste of the skin there. It's all a blur from there.

He mouths at her neck. He tastes her collarbones, works his way down to pop a nipple into his mouth, He's kissing her, her mouth, the expanse of her stomach. She's frantic when he begins to lick at her clit, legs tensing and relaxing as he works. Her head falls back; her spine arches towards the ceiling. Her orgasm is strong but calming like rushing water and Tyler finds a wave of tension he didn't know he had leaving him when she relaxes into the sheets.

"Come up here." She hand pulls gently at his hair and he leaves a wet kiss to her thigh.

He sinks into her on a groan, his lips glued to the spot where her neck meets shoulder and she gives him permission. "You can do it, if you want."

He wants to. Everything in his head is telling him it's a bad idea but his body hasn't gotten the message.

Bonnie's fingers dig into his back once he's inside of her. Her hearts racing and he can taste the adrenalin pumping through her veins. Eventually she relaxes and it feels like a free-fall. His strokes are as slow as he can muster as to not rip into her neck, he's fighting instinct now. He's penetrating her every way possible and that amount of intimacy isn't lost on him, the intimacy of Bonnie allowing herself to be his sustenance isn't lost on him, hurting her in anyway would ruin what this is.

His hand reaches between them and that coupled with the suckling of her blood pulls a moan straight from her womb.

He guesses she's one of those people who likes it.

Tyler comes on a curse, it's unexpected, too soon and his hand finishes her off.

They need simple.

This is as complicated as it'll ever be.

He rolls over, the ceiling seemingly more interesting than her face. "That was a mistake," he says and goes to correct him when he feels her mood change. "Not all of it, but the biting."

"It was good."

"It was dangerous. I shouldn't have—"

"It made me closer to you…connected….less alone. I wanted it and you wanted it and I don't feel bad about doing something that felt good on a day that would otherwise be terrible."

He's not trying to make her feel bad about anything. But it's something they should've avoided. Sex was one thing, but this added another layer of complicated into the mix.

"It'll be fine. I could make a wish about it if you like." He looks at the clock. It's two minutes before twelve. His hand cups over her mouth and he can feel her smile under his palm.

* * *

**It's open ended because I may write more but I make no promises. **

**But thanks for reading anyway!**


End file.
